


Amanda Meets Her Match

by hlravensnest_archivist



Category: Highlander: The Raven, The Avengers (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-12-31
Updated: 2000-12-31
Packaged: 2018-12-16 21:51:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11837742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hlravensnest_archivist/pseuds/hlravensnest_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atHL Raven's Nest. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onHL Raven's Nest's collection profile.





	Amanda Meets Her Match

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HL Raven's Nest](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HL_Raven%27s_Nest). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HL Raven's Nest's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hlravensnest/profile).

Amanda Meets Her Match by Maril Swan

| 

_Amanda Meets Her Match_

by Maril Swan aka Chimera 

A _Highlander/The Avengers_ crossover fanfic 

* * *

_London, England, Summer 1965_

_Oh, no,_ she thought, _I'll strangle Basil for this,_ hearing the front door shut, and the footsteps of someone walking into the apartment. Deftly, she closed the safe, and replaced the picture over it. _Not very clever security for someone so rich,_ she mused contemptuously, with a last glance around the bedroom. The safe hardly exerted her skills at all. She smiled to herself as she patted the jewels safely stowed in the pouch attached to her belt. 

Silently, the black-clad thief crept to the bedroom window to make her escape. She was about to attach the rappel rope and slip through when she was roughly hauled back by her long hair and thrown to the floor. 

“And just where do you think you're going with those?” asked an angry female voice with a cultured British accent. 

In an instant the thief was back on her feet, and dodging karate kicks and jabs, while trying to get in a few punches and kicks of her own. She realized her opponent was highly skilled and tough. A tall dark-haired woman faced her, her dark eyes glittering with anger as she looked for an advantage to finish the duel. 

Amanda drew on all the moves she knew to knock her down and get away. All her punches and kicks were parried easily by her adversary while she received some teeth-jarring slams to the floor. Each time she got up, she found herself thrown again, painfully, onto the carpet. Panting with anger and frustration, she started to get up again when she heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. 

“I'd stay down if I were you,” the woman warned, her breathing loud and laboured with exertion. “I know how to use this, and I will.” 

Amanda looked up into the barrel of a small shiny gun, like a deadly toy, in the hands of the woman she had been robbing. She was slim, beautiful, and very angry. She swept her long auburn hair back off her flushed face with an impatient gesture. 

The woman pointed to the pouch of jewels. “Hand it over,” she demanded. 

Amanda tossed her the pouch, warily watching for an opening to escape. The woman dumped the contents onto her bed. 

“Well, at least you have good taste,” she said smiling wryly. “These are my best jewels.” 

The front door of the apartment opened, and a voice rang out, “Mrs. Peel! Are you here?” 

“In here, Steed,” Mrs. Peel called back. 

As his steps approached the room, he said, “Sorry I had to call you back from your holiday so soon, but, ...Mrs. Peel, we're needed.” 

A tall, dapper-looking middle-aged man walked casually into the bedroom, swinging an umbrella. He was elegantly dressed in a Saville Row suit, wearing a red carnation in his lapel, and topped by a black bowler hat. He carried a brief case in his gloved hand. His eyes widened in surprise seeing Amanda sitting on the floor, with Mrs. Peel holding a gun on her. 

“I see you have company, Mrs. Peel,” he said jovially, tipping his bowler and bowing gallantly, “And charming company at that.” He smiled appreciatively at Amanda. 

“She was just leaving,” said Mrs. Peel curtly, “in the company of the police.” 

Mrs. Peel handed her gun to Steed, and added, “Watch her while I make the call. I caught her robbing my jewellery safe.” 

Holding the gun in one hand, Steed offered the other to Amanda to help her up. “John Steed,” he said cheerily, “and you are?” 

Amanda considered trying a sudden move to get him off balance and get away, but Mrs. Peel was only a few steps away, with the telephone in her hand. She knew she didn't have a chance. Shrugging ruefully, keeping hold of his hand and giving it a little squeeze, she replied, “Amanda Montrose. Under other circumstances, I'm sure it would be a pleasure.” 

Thumbing through the telephone book, Mrs. Peel made a derisive sound. 

Steed's smile deepened and she saw a twinkle in his grey eyes. His gaze narrowed as he glanced from Amanda to Mrs. Peel and back. The smile disappeared momentarily as he seemed to be considering something. 

“Mrs. Peel. Don't make that call just yet. I have an idea.” 

* * *

Mrs. Peel still held the gun, watching Amanda warily and with dislike. “Steed, how can we trust someone who broke into my apartment to steal my valuables?” 

“It's a simple choice, Mrs. Peel. It's either us or the police. What do you say, my dear? Your choice.” 

Amanda had to smile at his infectious good humour. He seemed unflappable, as if everything amused him. In spite of her situation, she found herself liking this Steed. Mrs. Peel was quite another matter. Had Steed not shown up, she would be under arrest now. 

For the hundredth time that hour, Amanda made a vow to get Basil for this foul-up. He had assured Amanda that this wealthy woman, head of a major corporation, would be away for at least two weeks. She had not been gone two days! Basil had said he was moving to Paris as London was getting too hot for him. Well, he didn't know the half of it! Paris would be pretty hot too, when she found him! 

“What do you want me to do?” Amanda asked, looking from Steed to Mrs. Peel. 

“Just go for a ride in the country with me,” Steed replied merrily. “And then you're free to go. Nothing to it.” 

Sitting in Mrs. Peel's elegant and bright living room, Amanda wondered about these two. What was she getting into? A ride in the country? What was that about? Who were these people and what did they do? 

“Just one thing, Amanda. You will have to borrow one of Mrs. Peel's outfits to wear for the trip.” 

Amanda shook her head in confusion. She was obviously being used as a double for Mrs. Peel, but why. Still, she decided, it was this or the police. Not much of a choice, really. 

“OK. I'm in. But I get to pick the outfit,” she said, smiling at Mrs. Peel's sudden intake of breath. _This might even be fun,_ she thought, watching Mrs. Peel glaring at Steed. 

* * *

The old Bentley was in mint condition, Amanda noted, as she wandered around, touching its shiny exterior. Steed was obviously proud of it as he polished off the fingerprints she had put on the paintwork. The leather seats squeaked as she settled into the passenger side, after trying to get into the driver's seat. 

“Americans!” Steed laughed, “Always getting in the wrong side. I'll drive, my dear. No one but me drives this old girl,” he added heartily, patting the dash. 

A few hours later found them travelling south of London on a narrow, hedgerow-lined road. There seemed to be no other traffic on this little used thoroughfare, and Amanda wondered once again what this was all about. 

“You're not actually an American, are you, Amanda,” Steed began, with his characteristic good humour. “Your accent has some hint of British in it. So either you were born here and moved there, or vice versa. Which is it?” 

“I've lived in London for a while, Steed. But lots of other place too, including the United States and Canada. I guess that accounts for the accent.” 

The wind blew through her hair as they sped along in the Bentley convertible, and the sun warmed her. It would be a very pleasant drive, if only she knew where they were going. Farmland stretched on both sides and occasionally they passed through small quaint villages. 

She was burning to ask what she was supposed to be doing, dressed in one of Mrs. Peel's expensive suits. It was a tight black leather number with a silver chain belt. She might even have bought something comparable for herself, Amanda thought. _We're not only of a size, but have similar taste in clothes. And men,_ she added, glancing at the elegant Mr. Steed. _He's nice. Too bad I can't stay around, but I have to get to Paris to kill Basil._ After this fiasco, she decided that London was too hot for her too. 

A motorcycle seemed to come from nowhere and passed them quickly. Steed stiffened, gripping the wheel and suddenly Amanda saw them too. The cyclist had sprinkled sharp pieces of metal over the road. Steed swung the wheel this way and that, trying to avoid the metal spikes, but one punctured a tyre and he lost control, driving onto the verge with a crunch of gravel and metal. 

The front fender of the Bentley was crumpled into the thick hedgerow. For a moment, Amanda thought Steed was going to lose his aplomb as he got out to inspect the damage. Suddenly, a black sedan pulled up in front of the old car, and three men got out, their guns levelled at Steed and Amanda. Her eyes narrowed at one individual who seemed to be their leader. He was a thin-faced man of medium height with an unhealthy pallor. His eyes shifted from Steed to Amanda. They exchanged a knowing glance. 

“Are your country drives always this pleasant?” Amanda asked Steed as she watched the men approach. 

“Usually a bit more exciting,” Steed chuckled. 

“Well, Lensky, how nice to see you again. How long has it been? Ten years?” Steed turned to Amanda. “Lensky and I have met before. Last time, I shot him.” 

“Where?” asked Amanda. 

“In the Dardanelles!” Lensky growled. 

“Bet that hurt!” Amanda raised her eyebrows and made a pitying sound. 

“Never been the same man since,” Steed added. 

“Enough!” Lensky shouted. “Do you have it with you, Steed?” 

Steed made a show of patting his pockets and checking his bowler, then said, “Apparently not. Must have left it in my other jacket.” 

“Search him!” Lensky motioned one of his henchmen forward to search Steed more thoroughly. He roughly pushed and patted his clothing discovering a gun, which he lifted from Steed's jacket pocket. 

“How did that get there?” Steed jibed as the thug stepped away with his gun. 

Lensky turned his attention to Amanda. “So, I finally get to meet the lovely Mrs. Peel,” he said. “Do you have it, Mrs. Peel?” His eyes roamed avidly over the tight leather suit which concealed nothing. 

“Why don't you search me?” she said, opening her arms suggestively and moving slowly forward. 

Steed gasped, and muttered, “Mrs. Peel! Really!” 

Lensky, mesmerized by the lithe form offering itself to him, stumbled toward her, and she leapt up and delivered a kick to his midsection, dropping him hard onto the gravel. Steed flung his bowler at one of the henchmen, and it clanged off his head, knocking him out. 

Amanda had pulled out her sword and was holding it at Lensky's neck. His pallid face was flushed with anger. 

“Tell your man to drop his gun, or there'll be some fireworks. You know what I mean, Lensky?” She pressed the sword into his neck, drawing blood. 

“Drop your gun,” Lensky cried. Then he growled to Amanda, “Mrs. Peel. I didn't know you were an....” 

He stopped abruptly as the sword point dug in more. “Don't say it,” Amanda hissed, “or it will be the last thing you say.” 

Steed watched, nonplussed, then asked, “Didn't know you were ....what, Mrs. Peel?” 

“An expert swordswoman, Steed,” Amanda replied, with a quick salute as she replaced the sword in its hidden scabbard. 

Steed studied her quizzically then snarled at the prostrate Lensky. “This time you've gone too far, Lensky. Trying to kill us was bad enough, but look what you've done to my car. Punctured tyres and a dented fender!” 

“What are we going to do with them, Steed?” Amanda asked. “And how are we going to get back to town? Your car is hors de combat.” 

“We'll tie them up, and take their car. I'll stop at a call box and have them picked up. And I'll get a garage to come for my car,” he added, taking a long sorrowful look at the Bentley. 

* * *

“Hmm,” Mrs. Peel said as she watched Amanda enter her apartment with Steed. “I think that outfit looks better on you than it does on me. Keep it.” She smiled and held out her hand to Amanda. 

“We got off to a bad start. Finding someone robbing my place does put me off rather. But Steed told me how you saved the day. I'm impressed. It was well done.” Mrs. Peel shook Amanda's hand, then gestured to the couch. 

Steed came from the kitchen bearing a champagne bottle and three glasses. “Champagne, anyone?” he asked cheerfully. 

Amanda accepted a glass, filled with her favourite effervescent drink, and sipped appreciatively. “I've figured out what this little caper was all about finally,” she said, glancing from Steed to Mrs. Peel. 

“I was a decoy, to be seen leaving with Steed, supposedly on a drive into the country. But Lensky thought Steed was delivering something. Something that was in the briefcase. I realized after Lensky caught us that the briefcase wasn't with Steed. He left it here. You took it and delivered it to someone or somewhere.” Amanda stopped, looking for acknowledgement of her theory. 

Mrs. Peel laughed lightly. “You're right, Amanda. That was the plan. We knew Lensky was having us watched, so neither of us could deliver the package without being intercepted. With you, looking like me, Lensky's men followed you and Steed. The package is now safely where it belongs.” 

“So, what was in the package?” Amanda asked. 

Steed tapped his forehead, and said, “Need to know, Amanda. Need to know.” 

He turned serious for a moment, then got up from the couch, picking up his bowler and umbrella. “Mrs. Peel has something she wants to discuss with you. I'll see you again, Amanda.” He lifted her hand and placed a kiss on the back. With a cheery wave of his umbrella, he was gone. 

An uncomfortable silence developed in the vacuum of his departure. Mrs. Peel shifted uneasily on the couch, and set down her champagne. Amanda could see she was searching for a beginning, but for what, she had no idea. She waited patiently, sipping her champagne while Mrs. Peel marshalled her thoughts. 

“Amanda,” she began hesitantly, “I'm going on an extended trip soon. I need to get away for awhile. You understand?” Amanda nodded, and she continued, “Steed will need a partner while I'm gone, and I was wondering if....if you might fill in for me?” She brushed back her loose auburn hair in a gesture Amanda now recognized as a reflex to inner turmoil. Mrs. Peel obviously did not want to leave Steed without a partner, but wanted some time to herself. She was in a dilemma and Amanda seemed to provide an answer. 

“What do you and Steed do?” Amanda asked. 

“We work for a secret department of the British Government. Our assignments come from someone we've never met. We just get our assignments and carry them out. Like today.” 

“You're spies!” Amanda laughed. “You and Steed are spies. Right?” 

“Actually, we call ourselves agents.” Mrs. Peel regarded Amanda intently, and asked, “Will you do it?” 

“You mean give up theft to become a spy? What a moral dilemma!” Amanda paused as if pondering, then said, “Of course I'll do it.” 

“There is just one other little matter. You'll have to stay here in my apartment and call yourself Mrs. Peel. I don't want anyone to know I've gone away.” 

“So, let me get this straight. I live in your apartment, do your job, use your things, and your name until you come back. Is that it?” 

“And when I return, I want _everything_ back. Understood?” The two women exchanged a knowing glance and laughed. 

“Understood.” 

* * *

© 2000 

* * *  
  
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End file.
